Fat Tuesday(57)

The three men into whose table Gregory had careened were now on their feet. They grabbed him in turn, throwing punches and hurling insults.

Before long, two others had joined in.

Over his shoulder, Burke said to Errol, "Get her out of here. I'll meet you at the van."

Then he elbowed his way through the homophobic crowd. Everyone was on their feet, some standing in chairs, yelling encouragement to the men who were pummeling Gregory. When Burke reached the epicenter of the melee, he plunged in and managed to do some damage to most of the attackers until he came face to face with the object of Gregory's desire. Love must truly be blind, Burke thought, because this was one ugly son of a bitch and every solid, bulky inch of him was bristling with rage.

His fist connected with Burke's chin and sent him flying backward.

"You another one?" He bore down on Burke."You goddamn perverts that hide behind your backward collars make me want to puke."

He bent down to pick up Burke and deliver more. But when his red, temper-congested face was mere inches away from Burke's, his progress was stopped so abruptly that inertia almost caused him to pitch forward and land on top of Burke.

He'd been halted by Burke's pistol, the barrel of which was digging into the beefy forehead, which Burke used as leverage as he came to his feet.

"Back off, *."

"Wha "

"Call off your friends, or the next sacrament you receive will be last rites."

By now several of the others had noticed that the priest was holding their friend at gunpoint. Shock, more than fear, immobilized them.

Within moments, all activity ceased, and the only sound in the room, except for the lively music coming from the jukebox, was Gregory's blubbering.

"Move over there." The redneck obeyed Burke instantly, stumbling over his own big feet, his arms raised. Speaking calmly to the ring of hostile faces, Burke said, "Don't anybody do anything stupid." He inched toward Gregory and nudged him with his foot."Get up."

Gregory covered his head with his arms and began to sob even louder.

Burke was tempted to lay into the young man himself.

Instead he gritted his teeth and said, "So help me God, if you don't get up and move toward the door, I'm going to leave you here for them to do with as they please. Before they're finished you'll be begging to go back to jail."

The warning worked. Still whimpering, Gregory pulled himself to his feet."I'm sorry. I "

"Shut up."

"Okay, just don't leave me." He wiped his bleeding face on his sleeve and staggered toward the exit.

- Burke, sweeping the room with his extended gun arm, moved backward toward the door."We're leaving now. We don't want any more trouble No harm was done. Just go on about your business."

When he reached the door, he shoved Gregory through it, then followed him out. He was relieved to see the van, engine running.

"Get in the van," he shouted as he jogged toward the office of the filling station where he could see Errol speaking into the telephone and gesturing broadly.

Burke charged through the door and plucked the telephone receiver from the bodyguard's hand, then knocked him on the temple with it. The blow wouldn't do much damage, but it stunned Errol long enough for Burke to grab Remy Duvall's arm and pull her after him toward the door.

She struggled to free her arm."What are you doing?"

A woman customer, who'd been paying for her gas, let go an earpiercing scream. The attendant reached behind the counter for what Burke knew must be a weapon."Don't!" he shouted. The attendant froze. The aging hippie mechanic, standing in the open doorway that connected the office to the garage, was wiping his hand on a shop rag and saying repeatedly, "Far out."

Burke backed out of the office. Pinkie Duvall's wife was fighting to get free. He wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her backward toward the van. She dug in her heels and flailed her arms, but she was no match for him, although her high heels connected solidly with his shins several times and caused him to curse in pain. She raked her long fingernails over the back of his hand "Stop it!" Tightening his grip around her midriff, he said close to her ear, "You can fight all you want, but it won't do any good. You're coming with me."

"Why are you doing this? Let go of me."

"Not a chance."

"My husband will kill you."

"More than likely. But not today."

He opened the driver's door of the van and boosted her up, then scrambled in behind her. As he pulled the door shut, he shifted into drive and stamped the accelerator to the floor. The tires laid rubber on the pavement as the van lurched forward. Burke took a hard right turn onto one of the state roads and directly into the path of an oncoming tanker. The rig missed the van by a hair.

Gregory was screaming, praying, and cursing in noisy cycles. Burke shouted at him to shut up."Goddamn it! What were you thinking? You could have gotten us all killed!"

"This is your fault, not mine," Gregory sobbed."What are you doing with a gun? You didn't say anything about a gun."

"You should be damned glad I had it so I could save your sorry ass.

Although why I did, I don't know."

Suddenly Mrs. Duvall, who was still sharing the driver's seat with Burke, raised the armrest and dove between the two captain's chairs.